Who's Your Daddy?
by scarletsnapdragon
Summary: Felicity has something vitally important to tell Oliver. Extreme fluff with a side of crack. (And now I have this image in my head of Stephen Amell in the middle of a monster truck arena aggressively lobbing pillows at other CW male leads just to prove he's the best at extreme fluff. Oh brain.)


**AN:** This is set in a near-ish future where things have lightened up for Oliver and consequently he's a lot lighter than we're used to seeing him. Crime is down in Starling City, he and Felicity are married and (though it doesn't really have any bearing on the story) the Justice League has been formed, so he doesn't feel quite so alone in his superheroing.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Husband," she said into the phone.

"Yes, wife," came the reply, and in that 'wife' she heard morning sunlight and the smell of pumpkin pie coming from the oven and winter nights spent draped across the sofa in front of the fireplace in the den.

"You need to get back to the house right now. Unless giant robots are trashing a major world capital or something."

And, oh, the giddy quaver must've given away her elation. Sheer terror. Whatever, same thing.

"Felicity, are you alright?" he asked in his 'whose ass needs kicking?' voice.

A borderline hysterical giggle escaped her. "I'm so alright it should to be against the law."

Taut pause. "Caffeine-to-sleep ratio?" he barked.

"Four hundred milligrams, seven hours. See? Illegally alright."

Wait….Did this mean she'd have to give up coffee? _Noooooo._

Another pause, this one longer. "I'm on my way."

* * *

Felicity was planning to meet him at the door to their cozy (by Queen standards) cottage in the woods north of Starling City. She stood there, tapping her foot, shifting her weight and tugging absentmindedly at her ponytail for all of about thirty seconds before she gave up and opened the door. When that wasn't enough to put her at ease, she leaned her upper body through the doorway, eyes fixed on the front gate. Then she stepped out onto the enter key-shaped welcome mat (one of her favorite contributions to their newlywed nest).

She ended up meeting him at the gate with a smiling kiss that went on and on. Kissing for them was always timeless and unbounded like that.

Finally Oliver disengaged, looking about as goofy as she felt. Also, impossibly hot. Like the sun.

Because he was the sun. Duh.

"Felicity. _What_ is going on?"

For a moment she just beamed dopily up at him. She was about to change the course of this man's life forever after. Taking his hand, she led him down one of the winding gravel paths around the cottage. It ended at a white bench under an arbor covered in pink climbing roses in full spring spirit. She sat and he mirrored her, angled so that they were facing each other. All four hands curled together and their knees touched.

"Oliver," she said because she loved saying his name and she was fairly certain he loved hearing her say it. And also she wanted to hear him say her name back in that gentle, I'm-so-in-love-with-you-you-adorable-queen rumble of his.

"Felicity."

Her heart dissolved into bubbles in response. With so much levity inside her, she was surprised she didn't float off into the clouds. "Oliver."

It came out scratchy and only half intelligible. Why couldn't she get enough air to speak like her normal, eloquent self instead of a warty old crone out of some Disney movie? She cleared her throat, then tried again.

"_Oliver_. There's a baby in me."

First, incomprehension. His brow furrowed as he processed the words. Then his eyes widened and the corners of his lips tugged up into an open-mouthed, awestruck grin. _Baby?_ he mouthed.

Felicity nodded, giggles bursting past her lips unfazed by her attempts to keep them in. "A baby, Oliver. A little us. A little bow-toting computer genius that's going to grow up to win life."

Oliver made a choked noise that might have been the third cousin of a laugh but was also probably kin to a sob through a great uncle. He smashed his lips to her cheek once, then pulled her into a hug, practically in his lap.

"A _baby_," he managed. "_Felicity_."

Her brain expertly translated that as Oliver for: Ineffable goddess whom I will worship for all eternity and beyond because she is joy incarnate.

Felicity shivered in his arms. (That was Felicity for: Please say my name again in exactly that way every day for the rest of our life because it makes me come undone like nothing else.)

Pulling back, he rested one of his hands on her waist, peering resolutely at her lower abdomen and clearly willing latent x-ray vision to manifest. "A baby."

"Is that going to be the extent of your vocabulary for the next nine months?"

Oliver chuckled, only slightly hysterically. He shifted some more so he could tuck her against his side, an arm around her shoulders. She took the opposite hand in both of hers. "Wife, we'll see how articulate you are when it's your turn to find out the love of your life is pregnant."

"Should that singularly bizarre and miraculous day come, I'm sure I'll have plenty to say, husband. Starting with: wtf?"

They shared a laugh before lapsing into shared thoughts about the future. The sun dipped close to the western horizon. After a while, Oliver asked, "Are you sure?" even though he really didn't need to. He knew his girl. She was sure. Probably ten times over.

"Over the past 48 hours, I've taken 18 pregnancy tests, each one claiming to be ninety-nine percent accurate. Every one came out positive."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "How…?"

"Lots of water. Plus, coffee _is_ a diuretic..."

"No wonder you skipped out on work today." He paused to run a hand through his hair. His expression melted back into fuzzy disbelief. "A ba – "

"Oliver, I will smack you."

"We have to tell Diggle. Oh, and Thea! Roy!" He shot to his feet, fingers already tapping his phone's screen.

"Cool it, daddy greenlegs," said Felicity, then blanked. "Whoa, that is weird."

Oliver stilled and cast flabbergasted eyes on her. "...say that again?"

"No."

"Pleeeeeeaaaase," he whined.

"No."

"I'm going to be a father," he said dreamily. "Come on, mama. Tell me who's your daddy."

This time she did smack him.

* * *

**AN:** Thank you for reading!

Inspired by this text post (which I posted) on tumblr:

Picture Oliver in his Arrow get-up running around the Glades grinning like a maniac and gleefully shouting, "Who's your daddy?!" at criminals right before he whacks them with the bow.

Because he just found out Felicity's pregnant.

That is exactly what I envision happening on Oliver's next patrol through Starling City.


End file.
